


I'm All Lost (in the supermarket)

by sullymygoodname



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: David is a good person, Gen, Hollywood! Come and get me Hollywood!, Karaoke, M/M, Ugly Sweaters, everyone is bad at communicating, this accidentally got very 80s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sullymygoodname/pseuds/sullymygoodname
Summary: When it's up toDavidto spread cheerful tidings and goodwill toward men, what is the world even coming to? Or, Patrick is upset that they can't go visit his parents for the holidays, and Stevie is experiencing seasonal sadness, so David tries to cheer them up. He doesn't know why he thought this was a good plan.





	I'm All Lost (in the supermarket)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ICMezzo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICMezzo/gifts).

> **Prompt:** David, Patrick, and Stevie get trapped in the Elmdale Christmas World.

* * *

David doesn't even _care_ about Christmas. Not now that lavish parties and expensive gifts are no longer the norm. David appreciates certain aesthetics of the winter season — soft sweaters; cozy nights by the (not real, not smoky) fireplace; twinkling, white string lights softly glowing against an inky black sky; the stillness of the crisp, clear air on a cold winter morning (but snow can GTFO as far as he's concerned). Also, hot cocoa; candy canes; hot cocoa with a candy cane in it. All the holiday treats, really.

Patrick, however, _loves_ Christmas. He'd tried to downplay it last year because he couldn't spend it with his family. (Of course, David now understands the real reasons behind that, even though Patrick was right about not leaving the store during such a busy time.) But _this year_ they'd both planned to go visit the Brewers. The store would have been covered, and they could have spent a whole week with Patrick's family, doing all the holiday traditions that Patrick was so excited about.

Until a blizzard happened, burying half the province, and Marcy had told them explicitly not to attempt the drive. They could fly, provided planes aren't grounded, but the airfare is wildly outside their budget for the year. Still, Patrick has set up alerts on his phone for cheap last-minute flights, and the look in his eyes every time he does the mental math and comes up with _'still too expensive'_ is heartbreaking for David. He couldn't bear to look at that face for the rest of the year. The holiday is just days away; something had to be done.

Stevie, surprisingly, also loves the holiday season, and winter in particular. Surprising, because it's sometimes hard to imagine Stevie loving anything. Even now, she keeps so much of herself, and her feelings, hidden. Even from David. He only has this information because they were three bottles of wine deep and nearly incoherent, but she'd said just enough to reveal her longing for a good old-fashioned holiday season filled with decorations and caroling and gifts for everyone. And to be surrounded by family. _'Like on TV,'_ she'd said. Last year's Christmas Eve party had been so slap-dash and last minute, but David has a very clear memory of Stevie, lit by colorful lights, face flushed (probably from the wine, but also, a little bit, from joy) with the glistening of tears in her eyes. He remembers the way she'd hugged them all, the warmth of her body folded into his, before Patrick had driven her home that night.

Though the party was not at all what David had been used to, or what he would have planned himself, it is one of his favorite memories.

Which brings them here, to the Elmdale Christmas World. A place in which David never imagined he would ever set foot. And yet, here the three of them are, in this winter wonderland hellhole. David is currently asking himself why he thought this was a good idea.

"Why are we here?" Stevie asks out loud.

"Yeah, I'm a little surprised you wanted to come here, David. You told me you would not be caught dead in this, what was it? Theme park of bad taste and synthetic fibers."

"Well, I plan on _not_ dying here. Although, that might be trickier than anticipated," he says, eyeing the meager swirls of fake snow gently sprinkling from the ceiling. It's not wet, or cold. This place must be a bitch to clean, he thinks, flicking bits off his sweater. Fortunately, the 'snow' only happens right at the entrance; the rest of the store looks relatively safe. For a given definition of safe. Or relative. Or store.

"Did you... need something? Here?" Stevie looks up at him, gesturing to their surroundings.

"Yes," David says, resolutely. "Hot chocolate." With that, he marches over to the... charming little 'Cocoa Counter' with its red and white striped awning and twinkling lights, leaving Stevie and Patrick to trail after him. He orders everyone a hot cocoa, and, oh yes, they do come with a peppermint stick. David can endure this, he can make this work.

"Mint and chocolate together is disgusting," Stevie says when he hands her a snowflake-covered paper cup with a peppermint stick poking out the top.

"Your wrong opinions have been noted," David replies, giving a cup to Patrick who also looks less than enthused about it. He's busy refreshing his phone for flight information. David is never one to begrudge a person time on their phone, but he very much wants to smash that Android right this minute.

He inhales a deep breath of chocolatey steam and takes a sip of his cocoa. And does his absolute best to hide his grimace. This is clearly some sort of powdered cocoa mix. It's still gritty. But it's fine. This is fine. It will do. Patrick and Stevie aren't paying any attention to him anyway.

"So, this is... festive," David says, taking in the massive, warehouse-like space, with its overly bright fluorescent lighting and blinding, shiny surfaces everywhere. "It's _very_ colorful in here. And year-round, too. Just—all year, like a Hallmark movie threw up everywhere."

He tries to imagine _all this_ taking up residence in his store. His sand and stone color palette replaced with garish reds and greens and blinking lights. It physically hurts him to think about.

"There's almost no signal in here," Patrick mutters, holding his phone up over his head.

"Like an underground bunker in the apocalypse." Stevie is still holding her cup of cocoa, though she has removed the peppermint stick and popped it into her mouth, apparently not put off by the powdered cocoa flavor clinging to it. David would very much like to drop his own cup in the nearest trash bin, but there's no discreet way to do so and he can't let Stevie see him not enjoying this. (The 'Cocoa Counter' also sells chocolate chip cookies, but David is wary after this watery sand drink. Though, really, how can anyone screw up cookies?)

Instead, David puts his hand over Patrick's phone and gently pushes his arm down to his side. "Honey, since that's clearly not working, why don't we look around for a bit?"

"Look around for what, exactly?" Patrick asks, reluctantly shoving his phone into his coat pocket.

"Well, it's an entire _world_ of Christmas; I'm sure we can find something. Perhaps some new decorations? For the motel? And maybe a few things for the apartment? A little something for your place, Stevie?"

"I don't really decorate my apartment. Or the motel. That's more your dad's area."

"We have decorations at the store, David. We _sell_ decorations at the store."

"Mhm, we do," he says, ignoring Stevie because he _knows_ she likes decorations. She _said_ so. "But those are... small? We don't have any of these big—things." He waves his arms at all the towering inflatables that he very much does not want anyone to purchase, and the hanging icicle lights that aren't too bad, considering, and the wreaths— "Oh, these wreaths could be okay, unless they're—" Yep, plastic. David pulls his hand back from the plastic holly, rubbing his fingers together.

"We still have a couple of Neil and Susannah's wreaths at the store, David, if you want one for the apartment," says Patrick, eyeing him with a furrowed brow. "Even after your dad practically cleaned us out buying one for each door of the motel. Not sure how we always get talked into giving him a discount," he mutters.

"It was a big sale!" David exclaims. "And—" He stops himself from getting into that conversation again, and just casually dumps his cup of cocoa into the trash as they pass by. "And—oh. Look. They have a clothing section. How... fun."

Patrick and Stevie glance sideways at each other. David ignores it, ushering them over to the racks of... sweaters. Patrick's cousin Samantha hosts an ugly sweater party every year, apparently, even though that whole concept is _very_ last decade (and David is proud of himself for not saying that out loud). They've already missed the party this year, but David is certain that absolutely every item on these racks would be perfect for such an event. Not that David would ever wear a single one. Or attend an _ugly sweater party_. He shudders just thinking about it.

"Is this the bad taste or the synthetic fibers part of the park?" asks Stevie, picking a hanger at random and pulling a bright red sweater with a cartoonish Christmas tree on the front, complete with blinking lights.

"Both, it looks like." Patrick steps up beside her and rifles through the selection. "David, what do you think? I've been meaning to buy you some new sweaters. You don't have nearly enough." He turns around, holding a blue monstrosity with glittery yarn snowflakes sewn all over it.

David's initial urge is to gurn and recoil, but if they're both teasing him then they're not being sad. He reaches out to touch the blue sleeve and— "Oh, that's—how is that so soft? This is polyester, what is happening right now? I should be getting hives just looking at this."

"I think that one's a winner," Stevie quips, grinning at Patrick. "Do you think they do gift wrapping here? Something colorful. With dancing reindeer on it."

"Okay." David can only take so much teasing. But Stevie is smiling, and she finally removes her toque, leaving her hair staticky and sticking up in five directions. She hasn't been smiling much since _Cabaret_'s run ended. Perhaps he can let her tease him a little longer. "Blue is not my color. Obviously, if they don't have black, silver would do. Maybe some earthtones..." David forces himself to flick through the hangers, touching them with only one finger. "Oh, emerald!"

He plucks the hanger from the rack and reveals the sweater with a flourish. It's a luscious green, and the material is very soft. On the front are two dancing reindeer that look vaguely pornographic.

"Oh god." David stares at it in horror. Stevie and Patrick burst out laughing.

"You're not actually going to buy that."

"Please, _please_ buy that," Stevie wheezes. David doesn't know what his face is doing, but it makes Stevie laugh harder, doubled over and clutching her stomach.

Patrick, still chuckling, takes the sweater from him and the one from Stevie, and shoves them all back into the rack. "We're not buying ugly sweaters."

"Oh thank god." David sags in relief, draping his arms over Patrick's shoulders. Patrick leans up to kiss him on the cheek, and unzips his coat, a Canada Goose that his parents bought him years ago and that Patrick refuses to replace because _'it's still perfectly good, David.'_ They're definitely not going to find a new coat for him here.

"Well, if we're not, then shall we—" Stevie starts and David cuts her off.

"Yes, let's go this way." With one arm around Patrick and hooking Stevie's elbow with the other, he steers them through the kaleidoscopic sea of polyester.

"Oh, we're not done, okay," Patrick says, but he stays under David's arm and slides a hand around David's waist as they walk.

"There's just so much more to s—holy fuck!" David startles back, nearly knocking all three of them down. Stevie drops her hat on the floor and Patrick only manages to stay upright by clutching onto a large, heavy table filled with kids' clothing. In front of them, is a display of child-sized mannequins at play in a winter scene.

Child-sized, _headless_ mannequins.

"That's disturbing," Stevie says, picking up her hat and dusting it off.

"I worked with an artist who did paintings like this. They gave me horrific nightmares," David mutters, both hands mostly covering his mouth. "As did she," he adds.

"It reminds me of the ring of dancing ladies in _Return to Oz_." Stevie is still staring at them sideways, entranced. "Think there's a hall of heads in here somewhere?"

"Ugh, let's not bring up that nightmare factory." David hurries them past the display and out into a larger aisle of the store. "Why can't mannequins have heads anymore?"

"Expense," says Patrick, dawdling behind. "Those old department store mannequins are not cost-efficient."

"Mmhm, sure." David nods. "But think of how terrifying it would be were these headless creatures to come to life and start walking around."

"Why would anyone think of that?" Patrick looks at him, head tipped to one side.

"That is the first thing I thought of," Stevie says, and David waves a hand at her in a silent _thank you_.

He continues moving along down the aisle where there are more headless, only moderately human-shaped mannequins. "There's not a Kim Cattrall or a Jeff Hyslop among them."

Stevie smirks up at him. "You had a thing for the _Today's Special_ mannequin?"

"He was very dapper," David says, offended. "Plus, he could sing _and_ dance. Also, I was four."

She just shrugs, still laughing at him. "I always liked Muffy the Mouse."

Patrick catches up to David's side. "What's _Today's Special_?"

David places a gentle kiss on his temple. "It's from before you were born, sweetie. Now shush." He gently nudges them down an adjacent aisle, slowly and carefully making his way through the store. Stevie and Patrick seem to have given up protesting for the moment, and easily follow his lead. "Look, they sell gift baskets. Those look nice." David inwardly cringes at himself. He feels like Alexis calling the motel _cute_ when they'd first arrived in town. The gift baskets aren't that bad, really, if very basic. A coffee one, a wine one, a cocoa and cookies one. He can't, however, determine the quality of the products inside.

"David, we already bought all of our gifts."

"Oh, were we doing gifts this year?" Stevie says. Even though she'd sounded completely deadpan, and David is ninety-three percent certain she's joking, he narrows his eyes at her anyway because she knows perfectly well that they'd all agreed to exchange gifts this year. Eventually, one corner of her mouth lifts up and she rolls her eyes at him. "I'm going to go back and get you one of those sweaters."

"I will divorce you."

"Good thing you're not marrying me then." With that, Stevie saunters on ahead, but... she'd sounded _off_, somehow, just then. David watches her walk away, uncertainty gnawing in his gut. He looks at Patrick, who seems to have noticed something amiss, as well. His pale eyebrows shoot up, along with his shoulders. David mouths 'I don't know' at him.

"Perhaps it's time to go?" Patrick suggests quietly, already edging back the way they came.

"No!" David protests, one second away from stamping his foot. "We can't yet."

"Why not?" Patrick's shoulders slump, his hands dropping with a dull _whump_ against his sides. "David, it's getting late, and I don't think we're going to find anything we need here."

"We might! Look. Look at this." David dances over to a shelf, and tugs out a box. "Look at this little gingerbread house kit. Wasn't that one of the things you were looking forward to? We could do one of these and send pictures to your mom?"

"I don't know." Patrick shrugs, a weary, pained expression on his face. "My grandmother always made everything from scratch. We've never used a kit before."

"Okay. Well. We could try," David says, and keeping his annoyance and desperation in check is starting to get more difficult. He shoves the kit into Patrick's arms, and ushers him forward to catch up to Stevie.

Little do they know, David has not, in fact, just been meandering aimlessly through the store. He has been very purposefully herding them toward the back, where a sprawling, little village has been set up. The sign reads 'Candy Cane Lane' and David pushes them both out of the aisle and onto the long red carpet that is, indeed, lined with giant painted candy canes. The carpet winds around little cardboard gingerbread houses, covered with shiny, plastic candies and topped with fluffy fake snow. At the end of the lane, atop a throne on a dais, is... nothing.

"Excuse me, hi, yeah." David flags down an elf. "Where is Santa?"

"Do you have children?" the girl wearing bells on her feet asks, looking at the three of them as though she clearly does not think this group would possess such things.

"Ew, no," David is happy to confirm for her.

"Well, sir, photos with Santa are only for the children."

"Okay, I'm not some beard fetishist," David says, hands flying up in the air. "I just wanted my friends to get their picture taken so they would cheer the fuck up." Said friends turn dark eyes toward him, and David resists the urge to back away.

"I'm going to have to ask you to step out of line, sir," the elf says in the monotonous tone of someone who doesn't really give a shit but also doesn't want to have to deal with more shit.

"But Santa's not even here, though?" he says as she walks away from them. There are a few parents and children waiting, but it's not like David's the one holding them up.

"Is this seriously why you dragged us here?" Patrick asks, drawing David's attention back. Patrick is still holding the gingerbread house kit, his face a mask of irritation. "There were so many other things I could have done today, David. I still have packages that I need to ship home."

David nearly flinches at that. _Home_. He's not going to remind Patrick that he _told_ him they should have done that weeks ago. (Patrick had insisted that they would just bring their gifts with them when they drove up to his parents' house.) David just stands there and says nothing. Patrick stands there glaring at the floor.

"I'm gonna go pee," Stevie says, glancing between them, before backing her way out of the fake frosted village and disappearing down another aisle. David has no idea where the restrooms are.

Nodding in that stilted, tense way of his, Patrick mutters, "And then we should go. Can you text Stevie and tell her to meet us by the front doors?"

"Um. I left my phone in the car?" David offers, and balks when Patrick stares at him in disbelief. "This outfit doesn't have pockets!" He'd also left his coat in the car, not wanting to carry it around in the store.

"Fine, I'll text her." Patrick hands the gingerbread kit to David, then shoves his hand deep into his coat pocket, frowns, and tries to shove it in deeper. "My phone's gone." He opens his coat up and on the inside there is a hole in the lining through which his fingers are wriggling. "It must've fallen out of my pocket."

"Perhaps a new coat would have prev—"

"David."

David's mouth snaps shut. He takes a slow, steadying breath. "I suppose we should go look for it?"

"I'll go," Patrick says, already backing away. "It'll be quicker. Just stay here and wait for Stevie. I'll meet you both by the door."

Hugging the box to his chest, David shifts from foot to foot. "I guess I'm just standing here waiting for the bearded big man all by myself like some pervert, then!"

A few moms shoot nasty looks his way, frantically gathering their spawn into tighter clusters. _Fuck this,_ David thinks. He's going to get cookies.

Back at the 'Cocoa Counter' he buys six cookies, two for each of them, hoping it might make a nice peace offering.

On his way back to Santa's village, David puts the gingerbread house kit back in the correct place, because he's worked in retail now and he's aware that if he just leaves it anywhere that will make more work for somebody. The judgey moms and their bawling offspring are no longer in line. The helper elves aren't there to scold him, either, and Santa is also still nowhere to be seen. The desolate little North Pole looks deserted, a ghost town in a sad stop-motion animation holiday special.

David waits and waits, the cheerful music playing overhead grating on his nerves. His back is starting to hurt from standing around and hunching his shoulders, a habit he's never been able to break, trying to appease people, and please people, and make everyone happy. Sometimes he wishes he could make himself so small that nobody would ever find him.

Eventually, waiting there all alone gets boring, so David looks for a place to sit. He's very tempted to climb up on Santa's throne and sprawl out, eating cookies. That's what Santa does, right? Instead, he goes over to one of the cardboard gingerbread houses and peeks inside. There's a little bench in there, probably for the elves. David folds his long legs inside, pulls the little cardboard door shut, and shame eats all the cookies himself. They're actually not bad.

Honestly, David had just thought it would be hilarious, coming here. Something they could have fun with, and laugh about. Like an 80's movie montage of friends doing wild and zany things in a mall. They'd play Cyndi Lauper in the background. Or maybe the Muffs song from _Clueless_. That would make it a mid-90s montage; they'd be trying on a variety of large and colorful hats (except David would not be allowing anything in this place to touch his hair), dancing around with scarves and hideous accessories, earning the ire of an overworked older man, shaking his fist at the terrible youths.

Except they are in their 30s and that would probably not be a cute look for them. This was a stupid idea. Granted, it was a last minute plan born of desperation and despair at seeing the people he loves so despondent, but it was stupid nonetheless. Perhaps he should have just let them feel their feelings, wallow in their misery. David certainly has in the past. Wallow, that is.

It's just that... David is _happy_. For possibly the first time in his life, he is truly, tremendously happy. Why can't everyone else just be happy, too? They're all together. Can't that be enough? Can't David be enough?

"David? Hello?" Stevie's voice, a little hushed, filters through the cardboard house in which David is hiding, reminding him that he's hiding in a cardboard house. He also finds that he can't stand up in here, and might actually bust through a wall if he tries.

"Um. In here."

A moment later, Stevie's face appears at the little cutout window in the little door. "Oh my god," she says through laughter.

"Help me out."

Stevie pulls the door open and sticks her head in. "How?"

"Well. Move." David tries to maneuver himself through the tiny door without stooping to crawling on the dirty floor. Unfortunately, he cannot quite make himself that small. It had been so much easier getting in here. Halfway out the door, he gets stuck and ends up just lifting the little house up, over his head, and out of the way.

"So, Patrick wasn't in there with you?"

"We definitely would have broken it," David replies, eyeing the now crooked little house, before turning to Stevie. "He lost his phone somewhere. He went to go look for it and told me to wait here for you."

"He _told_ you to, huh?"

"Yes." David resists the urge to cross his arms. He stands up straight and strides forward. "We're to meet him at the exit."

"So." Stevie catches up to him easily, falling into step at his side. "I guess hiding in a gingerbread house means you hadn't noticed that there's nobody else in the store."

"I tried not to notice when people _were_ in the store."

"If Patrick is up there waiting, the store employees are going to be pissed at us for holding them up."

"Ugh," David groans, picking up his pace. As if he doesn't feel bad enough about this whole excursion already. But when they reach the front of the store, there's not a single person in sight. No Patrick waiting by the doors, impatiently tapping his foot. No employees glaring at them from behind the cash registers. Not even an angry floor-sweeper. All the interior lights are still on, the annoying seasonal music still playing overhead, but the front doors are dark and the fake snow has stopped falling. 

"Shit," says Stevie, slowly looking around. She moves over to the doors, but nothing happens. They don't automatically open as they should. Stevie pushes on them and David rushes over to pull her hands away.

"Don't! You'll set off an alarm or something!"

"The doors are _locked_, David. We are locked in."

"Of course we're not locked in, don't be ridiculous. They obviously lock the doors so people won't come in after closing, but they wouldn't just _leave_ people in the store! That's insane. We just need to find the... manager."

"The manager's office is empty," says Patrick, coming up behind them.

"And where have you been?" David asks, now crossing his arms over his chest. "You were supposed to meet us here."

"I went to customer service to see if anyone had found my phone and turned it in. The kid working the desk took me to the Lost and Found in the back, said I could look through it. He just wandered away while I was doing that..." Patrick trails off, eyes roaming around the empty store. "Where is everyone?"

"Gone. The store is closed and they locked us in," Stevie says, giving the door one last, little shove.

"They wouldn't just lock people in," Patrick protests.

"That's what David said, and I think you both underestimate how much they absolutely would not care as long as they get to leave on time."

As if he didn't just witness Stevie fail to open the doors, Patrick steps forward and tries them himself. "This is ridiculous, they can't just trap people in the store!"

"Your faith in humanity mystifies me," Stevie says, before heading over to the nearest check-out counter. She hops up onto it and swings her feet over, then reaches for the phone.

"What are you doing?" Patrick finally steps away from the door to follow Stevie, going completely around David without even looking at him.

"I'm going to call someone to let us out." She pauses, receiver in hand. "Should I call the cops?"

"Don't call the cops!"

_Now_ Patrick looks at him. "Why wouldn't we call the police?"

"I don't know!" David wraps his arms around his body as tightly as he can manage. "This doesn't seem serious enough for police intervention. Surely, they'd be too annoyed. What if they decide to charge us with trespassing or something?"

"I'm sure they can't do that," Patrick says, in his _'everyone is very reasonable and you're being melodramatic'_ voice.

But Stevie puts the receiver back into the cradle with a quiet click. They both look over at her.

"Elmdale police are... not my biggest fans."

David has questions, there's definitely a story worth hearing there. Before he can ask, Patrick suggests heading back to the manager's office to look for the manager's name and number, or perhaps a list of who to call in case of store emergencies.

They find nothing helpful in the office, but Stevie does accidentally discover how to make announcements over the P.A. system while trying and failing to get an outside line. The loud screech, and Stevie's voice hissing "Shit, shit, shit!" echoes throughout every empty corner of the store.

David turns to Stevie in exasperation. "Why are you even bothering with that? Just use your phone and, I don't know, call my dad or something! Wait, don't call my dad." That is the last thing David needs right now.

"I stopped carrying my phone with me everywhere a few weeks ago." Stevie shrugs. "That way I don't even have to _pretend_ that I didn't see anyone's texts."

"Um, do you mean my texts?"

"I said anyone's texts. All texts. I just don't need to be in constant contact with the world these days," Stevie says as she slips out the door of the manager's office, leaving him and Patrick behind. It was that same _off_ tone as earlier, and this is exactly why David got this stupid idea in the first place.

"She sounds..." Patrick starts, but clearly doesn't know where to go with that.

David scurries out the door to catch up with her, slowing his gait casually when he reaches her side. Stevie side-eyes him and keeps walking.

David opens his mouth, shuts it, takes a breath and tries again. "Um. Are—what. What's, um, what's. Up?"

Stevie stops abruptly, and David nearly collides into her, Patrick at his back. A three-person pileup, that nearly was. That sounds more fun in his head.

"What's up," she says, with her hands on her hips, "is that I'm third-wheeling a very weird date with my friend and his fiancé, and I haven't had a date of my own in..." She closes her eyes and shakes her head, turning away from him.

David blinks after her then looks over to Patrick, who shakes his head unhelpfully, gesturing at David in a _this is all you_ type of way. David wrinkles his brow and scowls at Patrick.

Reluctantly, he slinks up beside Stevie again so he can see her face. "Is this about—um. I thought we decided that Emir was beneath us and not worthy of our time," he says, delicately.

"Oh, did _we_ decide that?" Stevie looks back up at him. Then sighs. "It's not even about him, specifically. It's just that—" She heaves another sigh, dropping her arms to her sides. "I haven't really liked anyone else, since... since you."

She avoids looking directly at David by glaring at a big red sleigh made out of stacked boxes of wine to his right. Atop the sleigh sits a fluffy Tyrannosaurus rex holding the reins. David eyeballs the display, as well, wishing they were anywhere else right now. Wishing _he_ were anywhere else right now.

"Oh hey, trees," Patrick says, pointing off to the left, and then walking off in that direction leaving David to deal with this alone.

"And it's not about you, either, so relax," Stevie says, pushing at his shoulder. "It's just, you know, the usual end of year crisis."

"The usual what now?"

Rolling her eyes, she huffs. "You know, like, another year has gone by and you're still exactly where you were last year? I mean me." She points to herself, finger poking into her own chest. "I'm exactly where I was last year. And the year before, and the year before."

She drops both hands to her sides again, shoulders slumped forward, hair hanging over her face. David is worried she might be crying. But her voice sounds steady, though tired, and she's breathing evenly.

Suddenly, she looks up at him again, shaking her hair back. "I'm happy you're happy. I do want you to be happy. Sometimes, it's just a lot. And I hate this time of year— "

"You love this time of year," David interjects.

"I hate this time of year," Stevie repeats, "because it just makes me think about all the things that I don't have. That I haven't accomplished."

He wants to argue with her, to say she has done so much in the past few years, so much for David, and his family. She has him, she has his whole family. She _is_ family. But he realizes that's more about him than her. He realizes that he doesn't know what Stevie wants. In general. Out of life.

Maybe she doesn't know, either.

"I just—I don't want to be here, David," she says, eventually, and he's not sure she means just _here_ in this stupid store. Stevie shakes her head again, turns around, and starts walking away.

She's almost to the end of the aisle, about to turn a corner when David calls out after her, "But where are you going? We're stuck here!"

No answer, and she's gone. David sighs, and looks over to Patrick. One failure down, one to go.

Patrick is standing amidst a grove of fake evergreen trees. Mostly green trees. He's looking up at a large, spiky, silver tree with blinking red and white lights. Like if an ambulance drove off a cliff, landed on a building, and got stuck in a giant old-school TV antenna.

Straightening his shoulders, David steps lightly over to Patrick's side. And waits.

"She seems upset," Patrick says, eyes remaining on the abomination of a tree.

"Mhm," David agrees. He doesn't know what else to say. Nothing he says will help.

"Perhaps a stroll through Christmas World will make her feel better," Patrick goes on, and David's shoulders hunch. "Was that the idea?" He finally turns to look at David.

"I just..." David shrugs. "Thought it would be fun. Funny. The three of us."

Patrick nods, lips pressed together, either hiding a smile or a frown. Sometimes even David can't tell. "Making sarcastic comments about all the gaudy decorations and bargain bin gifts."

"I mean..."

"Were we going to buy ugly Christmas sweaters? A gift basket of questionable cheeses? What about this tree, David?" Patrick sweeps his arm up as if he's on a game show. "Should we get this?"

"Um." David tries not to make eye contact with the so-called tree. "Is that something you'd, uh, want?"

"What if I said yes?" Patrick crosses his arms over his chest. "What if I said yes, David, I truly think this ugly, metal tree is what I want? What would you do?"

"I... would... buy you... this. Thing," David says, very decisively.

Patrick's face softens then, his arms falling to his sides. "I bet you'd find a way to set it on fire."

"I would never. It would most certainly give off toxic fumes when burned."

And Patrick smiles, a real smile, a small laugh escaping. He shuffles his feet, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and the smile fades as though it had never been there. David hates this. He feels helpless and useless and now everyone is sad. He just wants that smile back.

"Do... do you want this then?" he asks, tentatively.

"No, David. I don't want to buy an ugly tree." Patrick sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "I just want to go home."

Nodding, David squeezes his eyes shut. "I know. I know, you wanted to go home. And I'm sorry." He sniffs, willing tears not to fall. "I'm sorry we aren't spending the holiday with your family. I wanted to go! I wanted you to show me all those things you wanted to show me!"

He had been so looking forward to spending a holiday, any holiday, with Patrick's family. A real family holiday celebration, in a cozy, warm house, the smell of spiced wine and delicious homemade pies and cookies wafting from the kitchen. Surrounded by people who love each other and know how to show it. He's maybe only just now realizing how much he'd wanted that. 

"But we can't," David continues, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve, not even caring about the angora right now. "We can't drive, and we can't fly, and I can't teleport us there. I can't give that to you and I'm sorry!"

"David—" Patrick moves toward him, hands reaching out, but David backs away.

"I can't," he says again. At that moment, Stevie wanders back into view, her dark eyes watching them. A gross snorting laugh escapes him. "And I can't make Stevie happy," he says, gesturing widely at her. "And I can't make my _family_ happy. I just wanted to do something Christmas-y for you. For both of you, because you love all of this. Apparently." He is full on crying now and he can't stop, and he can't make himself shut up, and he can't look at their sorrowful faces anymore. "I just wanted to make you happy. I wanted us all to be happy. Together." The last word shudders out of him as he's backing away.

This whole day is a disaster and it's all his fault and he just _can't_ anymore. Patrick reaches for him again, but David angrily evades him. "No. I tried. I tried! It was pointless and I'm done." He turns away and storms off, fed up with trying.__

_ __ _

__

"David!" Patrick calls out after him.

"I'm storming off. You're not supposed to follow me."

Behind him he hears Patrick say to Stevie, "Am I really not supposed to follow him, or is that code for I should definitely follow him?"

David can practically _feel_ Stevie shrug, even without looking, so he yells back, "Don't follow me!"

He doesn't know where he's going. In a giant mega-store like this, especially empty as it is, one would think there'd be infinite places to be alone. He finds that his feet have been carrying him automatically back toward Santa's Village, but he can't hide in a gingerbread house again. Stevie would know to look there first. Instead, David wanders the aisles, actually browsing through the merchandise, thankful that there's nobody around to see him. It's not all terrible. Even though everything is cheaply made, and imported, and probably uses slave labor...

Fine. Everything is awful. This whole place is awful. This whole idea was awful. It should never be left to _David_ to cheer people up. He has been told _many_ times during the course of his life that he is too morose, sullen, and dour for his own good. For the company of others. David is definitely not the jolly type. He can't make people just _be_ happy. No matter the time of year.

This is not his holiday. Sure, his family used to celebrate every year, but it was just an excuse for parties and presents. They haven't even really celebrated Hanukkah since Alexis was nine. David secretly thinks that all of their 'holiday' parties over the years were really just his father's way of gathering people together, because he likes that sort of thing. Without all of that, David doesn't know how to make it perfect for anyone else. Patrick wanted one thing this year, to go _home_ and be with his family. Stevie wanted one thing, to spend the holiday surrounded by family. David couldn't give that to either of them.

He walks past an end cap and it's such a mess that he stops immediately to fix it. The shelves are packed with bubble bath in varying scents and colors. They're just all over the place with this color scheme. First, David is just turning all the bottles label-outward, because that is right and proper, but then he begins to rearrange the bottles into a more pleasing aesthetic. He sorts them by color, not scent, although some of the colors do not make any sense with their scents, but... ah well. The task is very soothing, creating order out of mess. Making one thing a little better for someone.

He starts moving down the aisles, making adjustments here and there, his mind going pleasantly blank. Peaceful. Almost trance-like. In a meditative way, not a _'what the fuck did that guy slip me'_ kind of way.

His eyes are dry now, though stinging and probably red. But he feels calm. Possibly a little regret for blowing up at his fiancé and best friend, even if it has made him feel better, to get that all out there.

Overhead, the acapella version of _Silent Night_ that David has heard six times in the last three hours, and was _just_ able to finally tune out, is suddenly interrupted with a sharp squeal. Then Stevie's voice rings out through the store.

"David Rose, please report to Candy Cane Lane, your party is waiting for you at Gumdrop Mountain. I repeat David Rose to Candy Cane Lane. Gumdrop. Mountain."

There's a series of muffled clicks, and then Patrick's voice sounds over the speakers, softer and more earnest, "David, please come?"

Usually when Patrick says that, it's in a much different tone and setting, but David figures he might as well go see what this is all about. He waits a minute, neatening one last shelf, but there are no more instructions forthcoming. Blessedly, the music also does not resume over the speakers and the building is left in silence.

When David reaches the red carpet into Santa's Village, at first he doesn't see anyone anywhere. Gumdrop Mountain, which sits beyond the gingerbread houses, is empty. But then he sees the sign, hastily scrawled onto a piece of cardboard. It reads: _Please have a seat_, with a long arrow pointing toward Santa's throne.

Suspicious, David hesitantly climbs the three steps up onto the dais. He looks all around, even underneath and above, before gingerly sitting down.

That's when Gumdrop Mountain lights up, and new music begins playing. Not over the P.A. system, but from... the gumdrops? It's a song David recognizes. A song David is almost ashamed to admit that he loves.

Then Stevie and Patrick step out, dramatically, from behind the colorful, plastic mountain of fake candy, dressed in hideous Christmas sweaters, pulling a karaoke machine with them.

On cue, Patrick begins to sing, "_Looking in your eyes I see a paradise. This world that I've found is too good to be true. Standing here beside you, want so much to give you this love in my heart that I'm feeling for you_."

And Stevie picks it up, "_Let 'em say we're crazy, I don't care about that. Put your hand in my hand, baby, don't ever look back_." She flings her hand out toward Patrick, who grabs on tight. "_Let the world around us just fall apart. Baby, we can make it if we're heart to heart!_"

When they hit the chorus together, David honestly doesn't know if he's laughing or crying.

"_And we can build this dream together, standing strong forever, nothing's gonna stop us now. And if this world runs out of lovers, we'll still have each other. Nothing's gonna stop us, nothing's gonna stop us now!_" Stevie is definitely laughing while Patrick croons.

"_I'm so glad I found you, I'm not gonna lose you. Whatever it takes, I will stay here with you_." He gazes right into David with those intense, soulful eyes.

When it gets to Stevie's part again, she makes it as far as, "_Let 'em say we're crazy, what do they know. Put your arms arou_—I can't, I can't," before dissolving into giggles. Patrick picks it up and carries them through to the chorus again. Stevie attempts to join in, they even try to do a bit of the _Money_ dance they'd practiced so much, but Stevie is laughing too hard now.

Patrick lets her go as she collapses onto a faux snowy hilltop, and he starts walking toward David, singing his heart out: "_All that I need is you. You're all that I ever need. And all that I want to dooo_—" Unfortunately the microphone is attached to the little karaoke machine, and the cord is not very long. It yanks Patrick up short. He finishes singing: "_Hold you forever! Forever and ever!_" before dropping the mic and moving quickly toward David, who is already out of his seat and down the little steps.

The guitar solo plays on as they meet in the middle, and David slides his hands around Patrick's shoulers. "Hi."

"Hey." Patrick draws him in closer, wrapping both arms around David's waist. He's smiling too widely to really kiss Patrick properly, but they give it a go anyway. "David, I'm sorry," Patrick says, when he pulls back from the kiss, and David shakes his head.

"No. No, you don't—I'm sorry you couldn't go home for the holidays."

"David." Patrick tightens his arms and just _looks_ at him. "Home is wherever you are."

Disguising it as an eyeroll, because that _was_ a very cheesy line, David tips his head back to stare up at the ceiling. He can't do anything about his mouth, though. He grins into another kiss, finding Patrick's lips and pushing his fingers up into Patrick's hair. The song plays to the end, fading out gently.

"You can still go," David says, caressing Patrick's cheek, "if you want. We can afford one round-trip ticket."

"The whole point of going to my parents' house was to bring you with me," Patrick says, turning his head and pressing his lips to the palm of David's hand. "I wanted you to be there, to introduce you to everyone, and show you... everything. I wanted to show you off. I wanted—" Patrick inhales sharply. "Your family has been here with us right from the beginning. Making me feel like I'm—like a Rose. I just wanted you to feel that, too. Like you belong with my family, too. And maybe I needed to feel like I still belong. But I'm sorry that I got so focused. So single-minded."

David is shaking his head some more, sniffling back tears. "I wanted—I want that, too. And we'll have that."

"You are getting married, after all." Stevie is suddenly right beside them. David is almost afraid to look at her; the last time she'd mentioned them getting married, earlier that night, she hadn't exactly sounded thrilled about it. But when he pulls his fingers out of Patrick's hair and turns to her, she's smiling up at him. She rolls her eyes, and socks him lightly on the shoulder.

David sniffles, a soft laugh erupting. "This was _your_ idea?"

Stevie shakes her head. "The song was my idea. He wanted to do _All I Want for Christmas Is You_," she says, aiming a thumb at Patrick, "but I told him we weren't allowed to sing Mariah."

"You are correct." He leans into it when Patrick slides an arm around his waist again, holding him close. He wants Stevie to get in this hug, too. He pokes her in the arm instead. "I can't believe _you_ did that," he says to her.

"I might have had a little wine beforehand."

"You snuck wine into the store?" David asks, only half surprised but completely insulted that she didn't share.

"Um." She glances sideways. "Not exactly?"

Behind Gumdrop Mountain sits an open box of wine, taken from the sleigh display. Now David is not only insulted, but horrified. "Oh my god," he says, face scrunching up when she offers him a drink. Patrick laughs; David turns to him. "And you condone this behaviour?"

With a shrug, his mouth curving at the corners, Patrick says, "Hey, whatever it took to convince her to do this with me. Did it work?"

"That could have been one of the sexiest things I've ever seen?" David says, tilting his head. "But this really ruined it for me." He plucks at the ugly sweater across Patrick's chest. It's the blue one with the sparkly snowflakes.

Patrick's face turns serious, eyes shifting to Stevie then back to David. "Oh, but we got one for you, too."

Stevie comes up behind him, thrusting that green reindeer monstrosity in his face. David flails, backing away from them both. "No. No! Do not let that touch any part of my body!"

"Come on, David." Patrick holds out a hand to him. "Join us."

"Absolutely not." He does not like the gleam in Stevie's eyes as she advances on him. "Stop right there." She doesn't.

"It's really soft, David," Stevie says, slowly coming at him. "Once you've tried it, you'll never want to go back." Then she practically launches at him, throwing the sweater right into his face.

David flails again, shrieking. "No, it touched me!" He knocks it away, but Stevie gets hold of it and tries to fling it at him again. David turns to flee. "Patrick, help!"

"Just put the sweater on, David," Patrick calls after him.

"Never!"

They chase him through the store, Stevie chanting, "One of us! One of us!"

"This isn't fair," David shouts. "I don't do running."

They easily catch up to him in the clothing section. David nearly runs right into the nightmare children mannequins. Stevie tackle-hugs him, wrapping the sweater around his arms and torso. Patrick gets him from the other side, and they all three trip, landing in a heap on the floor.

"Oof!"

"Ow!"

_Wheeze!_

Laughing too hard to breathe, or not breathing enough to laugh, they try to separate their tangled limbs and roll off of one another. Eventually, all three of them end up just lying on their backs on the floor, catching their breath.

Stevie reaches up to tickle David's face with a sleeve of the sweater.

"It is unfathomably soft," he admits, allowing the texture against his skin for a moment before batting it away.

While they're just lying there on the dirty floor that David is trying not to think about, his stomach growls. Loudly. It's well after midnight and he's famished.

Patrick sits up first, turning to David. He's smiling wide, about to say something mocking no doubt, when his eyes flick behind David. "Hey, my phone!" He scrambles across the floor to reach under a large table and pull out his phone.

"Oh, good," says David, "let's order pizza."

"Or, you know, call someone to let us out," Stevie remarks, hauling herself up off the floor.

"Obviously, that too."

"Yeah, about that," Patrick says, standing up as well. "I can't turn it on. Hopefully it's just the battery that's dead."

David groans, and his stomach growls again. He tries to pick himself up off the floor, stumbling to his feet, and nearly knocks over one of the child mannequins. It wobbles, ominously, until David puts a hand on its neck stump to keep it upright. He snatches his hand back with a shudder. "Where are the heads?!"

"Brewer, give the man head so he'll shut up about it."

Patrick shoves his useless phone into his jeans pocket, and looks over at Stevie. "You have had way more wine than you said."

"Mm, pizza and wine would be so nice right now," David moans, hastily brushing off his sweater and pants. He wonders if the Elmdale dry cleaner will be open at all this week. "Why couldn't this be one of those stores with a little pizza parlor attached? A sandwich shop. Anything."

"I'm sure the little pizza and sandwich part would be closed, too," Patrick says, sliding his arm around David again.

"Oh, yes. That would... definitely stop me from eating the pizza. Sure."

Patrick smirks at him, shaking his head. He glances around. "Where did Stevie go?"

"Right here!" She pops up in front of them, holding one of the child mannequins in one arm and a baby doll in the other, with its little head placed just so on the mannequin's neck.

David shrieks, covering his face with both arms. "Oh my god. That is so much worse!"

"But I found a head!" Stevie dances back and forth with the mannequin, humming one of the songs from _Cabaret_.

"Mkay, well let me know when you find something edible."

"Oh. Well in that case." Stevie puts the mannequin back where it goes, but holds onto the baby doll. "Follow me."

She leads them across the store, opposite where Santa's Village is, to the electronics department. Because what Christmas is complete without a flatscreen?

"While Patrick was setting up the karaoke machine, I was messing around with other stuff."

The electronics department is one whole corner, with televisions lining the back wall. There's a counter to one side, presumably for employees only. There are more inflatable decorations around — a tree, a sleigh, a reindeer. In the center, a few beanbag chairs are piled up amongst a scattering of opened gift baskets.

"So we're stealing wine _and_ food now?" asks Patrick.

"We can pay for them if it'll make you feel better." Stevie waves toward the set up. "They locked us in; what do they expect?"

David steps between them, going to investigate the contents of the baskets. "Um, so what is this plan here?"

"It's movie night." Stevie holds up a DVD case in one hand. "He'd never even heard of the movie," she says, indicating Patrick.

"I knew the song, though."

Picking a beanbag for himself, David squishes down into it. He pulls another right next to him and pats it suggestively at Patrick. "He's never seen _Ab Fab_, either," he tells Stevie. She's behind the counter, fiddling with something.

"And you're still marrying him?" Her voice sounds muffled, like she's crawled underneath now.

"It must really be love," David says, draping his arms around Patrick's shoulders as he sits in the beanbag. David leans into him and squeezes. Patrick turns his face to kiss David on the cheek.

Across from them, one of the TV's on the wall turns on. It's blank for a second, then the DVD menu shows up. A few more clicks, and the movie begins in _Egypt, a really long time ago_.

When Stevie comes back around the counter to claim a beanbag for herself, she looks at the both of them staring at her. "What? I know how to do stuff. I haven't _always_ had a crappy job in a crappy motel. I've had a lot of crappy jobs."

She starts to divy up the gift baskets. "Who wants wine? Me? Oh yes. David, this one has cookies. I know you were thinking about them earlier."

"Mm, I already ate, like, half a dozen," he says, and Patrick gives him a look. "They were calling to me!"

Stevie mock gasps, and belts outs, "David Rose! Come and get me, David Rose!" She gets him.

He grabs for the wine. "No cups?"

"It's not a Holiday Inn." Stevie grabs the wine back. She pushes a different basket toward him. "Here, this one has various cheeses and fruits."

Beside them, Patrick is watching the TV screen. "What is this movie?"

"Shh," David says, putting a finger to Patrick's lips. "Don't question, just enjoy it."

Patrick doesn't make it through the whole movie. He's asleep on David's shoulder as the final scene plays out and the end credits roll. David and Stevie are both lounging with their backs up against the inflatable sleigh. He looks over to her to see that she hasn't fallen asleep. She's close, though.

Quietly, David says, "You know you don't have to work at the motel anymore." She makes rubbery, squeaky, scrunching noises as she moves around to look at him. "You own the motel," David continues. "You could leave my dad to manage it. He's become pretty invested in its success."

"So, I would just not work? I guess I'd just stop paying my rent, too? And eating and drink—well, the first two, anyway."

"I'm just saying." David turns sideways, wrapping an am around Patrick and getting them both more comfortable. "You don't have to be stuck here."

They're silent for a long time, long enough that David is starting to drift off, when Stevie speaks. "What would I even do?"

Without opening his eyes, he says, "Anything you want." He snuggles down into Patrick's chest. "We'll be here when you get back."

David falls asleep before he hears an answer.

He is _rudely_ awakened far too early the next morning. There's a lot of commotion, a bit of yelling, Patrick does end up paying for the merchandise that they'd... consumed, _and_ the ugly Christmas sweaters. He also convinces the store manager not to call the police.

"It's really your own fault. Who locks people in without checking first?!" David calls over his shoulder as Patrick and Stevie are both pushing him out of the store. They each have a hand on his elbows, tripping over their own feet. Laughing.

David smiles. Mission accomplished.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why the movie _Mannequin_ was the first thing that popped into my head when I saw this prompt, but here we are. If you've never seen the movie, you have been sorely deprived and I'm very sorry for you, but you can watch the [music video for the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3wxyN3z9PL4) and feel like maybe you saw the movie once in a dream. The 80s were a wild time, don't judge.
> 
> I really hope the prompter enjoyed this. It was probably not at all what you had imagined when leaving that prompt. I'm sorry and/or you're welcome?
> 
> Title is from _Lost In the Supermarket_ by The Clash because I could not think of anything else while writing this.
> 
> Special thanks to kiranerys42, MountaineringBoots, and whetherwoman for looking over this for me. And all my Rosebuddies! And thingswithwings for running this fest!


End file.
